


Episode 32: One of Y'all Got To It

by PitoyaPTx



Series: Clan Meso'a [32]
Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Clan Ordo, Gen, Mandalorian, Mandalorian Culture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-28
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2020-09-28 20:00:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20431610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PitoyaPTx/pseuds/PitoyaPTx
Summary: "Did he just say 'y'all'?" ~MaceonA mystery ship dead in the water, a possible Deathwatch sighting, and a backwater client who thinks booby traps are worse than stolen tech: HonestTrailers or a sleep-deprived writer?





	Episode 32: One of Y'all Got To It

“And I mean everything,” said Chellin from the lounge area of his shuttle. He was projected over the holotable in the comm tower, pacing back and forth as he read off a list on his datapad, “Tech, textiles, food, although I doubt there would be any at this point-”  
“This should be easy,” Lyse muttered to Beun.  
“Quiet,” Jiik hissed from across the table.  
Beside him, Beon was scanning the holo image of the mostly destroyed ship. It was no larger than an Eta-class shuttle used by the Republic, but it was stocky and looked more like a beaked, battering ram than a ship. It featured two, fin-like wings on either side of its hull with twin turbines, one near the hull end of each wing. He looked over at Beun and saw the look of horror only a mechanic would make at the sight of something so obviously, well, obvious as this shuttle was. Nothing about it screamed stealth or any tactical usage other than maybe being able to punch through a small asteroid should the situation require it. There were nose cannons, albeit badly damaged ones, and the entire thing was orange save the gray-steel nose cap. Beon couldn’t fathom what would cause anyone to make a ship like this. If anything, it would startle anyone who got too close to it. What was left of it gave little indication of how fast it could fly, but he figured they’d have time to check it out up close.  
“Who owned this...shuttle?” Beun asked as if it pained her to acknowledge it as a ship.  
“It was owned by our client who wishes to remain anonymous,” said Jiik, “They had every intention of reclaiming the ship until-”  
“Deathwatch,” muttered Beon.  
Jiik nodded, “Now they want to make sure the thing isn’t trapped or otherwise tampered with.”  
“Makes sense,” said Fent.  
“I want a full report,” Chellin continued, “And when you’re done, destroy the ship.”  
“They don’t want it back? Even if we clear it?” asked No’gan.  
Chellin shook his head, “No. They said they managed to grab what they could before they hit the escape pods. Said they hadn’t felt a need to go back for anything but didn’t want it just floating around in the middle of hyperlanes.”  
“What happened to it? I mean, other than the obvious?” asked Teika.  
“Run in with pirates,” said Chellin, gesturing to the missing back half of the ship, “Blew out the cargo hold and took the valuables. In this case, weapons,” he scrolled up on his pad, “Client says, and I quote, one of y’all in grey and blue was rummaging around in there and I got too scared to get close.”  
Nods spread around the group, as well as a few stifled laughs. Sightings like this weren’t uncommon, but the proximity to the Republic didn’t sit right with Fent.  
“So our environmentally conscious patron got his ship blown up, got spooked by someone in armor, and wants it gone but you want whatever is left in there?” he summarized.  
“Correct.”  
“That’s not bad,” Lyse yawned, “We’ll be in and out real quick.”  
“If we find traps?” asked Beon.  
“Disarm them if you can,” advised Chellin, “Would be dangerous to enter or blow the ship with live traps in it.”  
The Twi’lek nodded, making a few mental notes then taking a deep breath and surveying his comrades, “We can leave as soon as you’re done briefing us.”  
“Excellent,” clapped Chellin, “Coordinates are waiting for you. I’ll be looking forward to your report.” 

“Traps in his ship, pfft. Traps for who? Di’kut,” Fent muttered as he and Teika carried a case of rations each up into the cargo hold.  
Before Goldie could pry them open, No’gan pulled out a meat-sickle from a plastic bag and lured the strill up into the lounge.  
“I’ll get you another one in a bit,” No’gan promised, “They’ll need space to get the rest of the gear on board.”  
Goldie snorted, but accepted the meaty ice block and curled up on the circle of carpet at the foot of the lounger.  
“I haven’t, no,” said Maceon to Beun, “That ship has been dead in the water for at least a year now. Garrigon said it took a month to get the job.”  
“Can’t spell fun without bureaucracy,” the Twi’lek shook her head.  
Fent rolled his eyes and slid down into the chair beside her, trying to focus on the dials in front of him and not the Zabrak whose mere existence seemed to vex him. She was similarly ignoring him, at least attempting to keep her promise to Beon...and Beun, until Lyse walked in. She was in kit, the snarling creature on her left pauldron freshly polished. She had her welding helmet on over a thick, woolen fabric that protected her lekku from chaffing and flyaway sparks. Maceon smiled up at her in what she hoped was a friendly, non flirtatious manner, but the gold Twi’lek took one look at her, frowned, and huffed:  
“I’ll strap in back there.”  
She thrust a thumb over her shoulder indicating the emergency seating closer to the cargo hold.  
“Not helping,” Beon muttered to her as he pushed by into the room.  
Lyse let her lekku hit the back of his as she turned down the hallway, joining No’gan on the couch.  
“Seat’s all yours,” she grunted to Teika as he emerged from the onboard refresher.  
He paused, then shrugged, figuring it was better to keep his mouth shut. When he was out of earshot, No’gan leaned in and asked:  
“Is she really that bad?”  
Lyse crossed her arms against her breastplate and leaned back against the worn padding of the vintage lounger.  
“She has a vibe I don’t like,” came her reply. At least, that’s what No’gan thought she’s said. After adjusting her position, she’d flipped the visor down over her face. Typical, he thought, she’s going to nap all the way there.  
Maybe it was her height, maybe it was her occupation, maybe it was some inner laziness she couldn’t sake, No’gan didn’t know. If she wasn’t working out or fixing a ship, she was napping. Then again, he told himself, she could just be bored. When Jecho left, Lyse changed. She was grumpier, even lashing out at Teika from time to time. Truth be told, the Zabrak did try his patience as well. It took Teika time to find his groove with the clan. At first he overcompensated, going above and beyond to prove that he used to be a warrior. Overtime he calmed down and became a combination of hardened warrior and the jovial friend No’gan had made on Hutta. Lyse became uptight, and yet she was always around when needed. Case in point, she helped No’gan through physical therapy and even carried him from the Bacta tank to his bed when he was too weak to move. She refused his thanks, once covering his mouth when he tried to express it, and the moment he was situated she was gone. He tried not to think too much about it, but then again she was close to Jecho too -closer than he was.  
“Hey, Lyse?”  
“Hm?”  
“Do you think she’s still alive?”  
Lyse flipped up her helmet and turned her head to get a better look at him. He met her eyes with as much defeat as the last time they’d had this conversation. She held his gaze for a moment, looked away, then flipped the helmet back down. 

“Remember, in and out,” said Jiik over the holo.  
“Come on,” said Fent, leaning back in his chair, “We’re professionals, remember.”  
“I think you’re stretching that definition,” the Togruta mumbled.  
“Everyone strapped in?” Beun asked over the intercom.  
“Check and check,” replied Teika, checking his straps.  
No’gan yelled something affirmatively from the lounge.  
“We’re ready, Beun,” said Maceon.  
“Taking off,” said Beun, punching the ignition.  
Fent scowled at the display. This was going to be a long flight.  
Beun eased out slowly, rising up above the compound and the dense forest around it. She angled Falstra-II’s nose up, and shot the control tower and salute before taking off into the atmosphere. The light raid did nothing to dampen her excitement to take her baby out for a real trip to the stars. 

Jiik shook his head and shut off his side of the feed once they reached the altitude for a jump. Chellin, lingered for a moment, datapad still in hand.  
“If this is one of theirs,” Jiik began, feeling his montril begin to ache.  
“Then we’ll be one step closer,” affirmed his Alor.  
“You know not even she made it this far.”  
“She didn’t have the tools we did.”  
“Maybe,” said Jiik, staring off into space, “But she had more reason than we.”  
“From a certain perspective.”  
Jiik shrugged, “Either way, we’ll make her proud.”  
“Or die trying,” Chellin chuckled.  
“Or die trying,” Jiik agreed, toasting an invisible glass.


End file.
